


spark me up

by loghain



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sleepy Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 18:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1992819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loghain/pseuds/loghain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kieren says his name again, rubs that hand across Simon’s stomach. He’s been - insatiable, putting it mildly, since his heart started beating again. Kieren feels everything sharper than before, and more intensely. Sometimes it’s like he’s making up for all the lost time, the years that he couldn’t take to be a horny teenager. Simon has no desire to deny him. // Kieren came back to life a while ago. Simon didn't. They make it work, and making it work sometimes includes Kieren waking Simon up at four in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	spark me up

“Simon.” Kieren’s nuzzling against the back of his neck, kissing his cold skin. Simon stirs sleepily, murmuring acknowledgement that Kieren is there. Kieren kisses behind his ear and rubs a hand over Simon’s hip, and alright, he’s waking up a touch more now.

“What time is it?”

There’s a little pause. “I can’t sleep.” So it’s before dawn, at the very latest. Simon groans and presses his face against the pillow. Kieren says his name again, rubs that hand across Simon’s stomach. He’s been - insatiable, putting it mildly, since his heart started beating again. Kieren feels everything sharper than before, and more intensely. Sometimes it’s like he’s making up for all the lost time, the years that he couldn’t take to be a horny teenager. Simon has no desire to deny him. 

“Go on,” he murmurs, shifting back against Kieren’s touch, turning his head just enough that he can see Kieren’s expression change. Kieren kisses the corner of Simon’s mouth and pulls himself close, pressing his front all up flat against Simon’s back, pushing one knee between Simon’s thighs and throwing the sheets down so they don’t get caught up in them. 

He buries his face against Simon’s shoulder, rolling his hips up against Simon’s ass. Simon ruts back in minute, lazy movements, until he can feel how hard Kieren is. Simon feels an answering heat low in his belly, arousal that can’t get him hard - he’s as dead as he always was, no blood flow, no heart beat; but they work around it. They’ve had plenty of time to practice. 

He feels air between their bodies again, the skim of Kieren’s fingers along his back, dipping into the scar, touching exposed bone. It doesn’t hurt. There’s no feeling in bone, only in the flesh attached to it; it’s just another part of Simon’s body, and in that manner, Kieren likes to touch it. His hand leaves the wound and then hooks into the waist of Simon’s boxers, pulling them down under his ass. 

Simon’s tired enough that he thinks about leaving them there, just letting Kieren fuck him like that, and there’s an appeal in the idea, lazy rough and dirty - it puts his stomach in knots - but he’s also tired enough that the added effort isn’t worth it, so he pushes them the rest of the way down, off his body and kicking them to the end of the bed. 

Simon doesn’t need to be told to move his leg forward, shifting over a little onto his front, and Kieren doesn’t need to be given express permission to press two spit-wet fingers inside Simon.

Simon exhales a groan almost immediately; less about any kind of instant pleasure and more about just how it _feels_ , the press and slide that promises something more to come.

He feels Kieren’s hot breath on his neck, and then his mouth, damp and desperate, scraping lips and teeth above the injection port. The skin’s always a little more sensitive around there. Kieren takes advantage of that the way that Simon used to; now Simon likes to take advantage of Kieren’s entire body. 

Not that Kieren is giving him much opportunity to. It’s Kieren who wanted this first but it’s Simon getting all the attention, all the touches; fingers crook and pull out, then push back in again, and Simon inhales this time, sharp, enjoyable. Kieren’s fingers seek out and press over his prostate, and Simon shudders, gasps and remembers that Kieren _likes_ seeing him fall apart - really likes it. 

He thinks it’s in part because Kieren assumed, at first, that Simon would want to fuck him, not the other way around. It was a little awkward, their first discussion of sex and sexual boundaries, the first time that Kieren admitted he was nervous about the idea of bottoming and that Simon realised this small town boy had grown up with small town trappings and thought he was going to have to bottom just because he was so slight.

Simon has no issues with giving or receiving; only a preference that Kieren has, so far, been happy to go along with - which is good, because that’s how they make this work.

“Kieren,” he groans, as Kieren’s long fingers slide out and in again, and Kieren whispers back, “You want another one?” His concern is touching, sometimes arousing but always somewhat discordant; coming back to life, Kieren has forgotten that Simon can’t feel pain in that way, doesn’t realise that he only needs prep as far as it can make Kieren comfortable. 

Sometimes Simon resents that, this… living privilege that he’s not convinced he will ever have. But his resentment never outweighs the way he loves Kieren, and right now it doesn’t even enter his mind. He moans but shakes his head, murmurs, “I’m ready, c’mon.”

“On your front?” Kieren suggests, fingers pulling out of Simon’s body and nudging him around encouragingly. Being torn between lazy and rough and what will _actually_ take less effort strikes again — Simon wants, really, to stay on his side like that, Kieren all pressed up against him. He knows Kieren would get so _deep_ that way, able to rut up flush. 

He knows, though, it would be easier to just roll onto his front - but what Simon wants wins over anything else, and he says, “Fuck me like this.”

Kieren’s given enough pause that Simon almost worries, but then he breathes out a quiet _yeah_. He was so focused on fingering Simon that he didn’t take his own boxers off yet, and Simon listens as he does that now. 

It’s tempting to twist his body, turn over, watch Kieren as he does what Simon can guess - kick away his boxers, then run his hand over the length of his cock a few times, earning back whatever hardness he lost in the interim of working Simon open. He almost does, but he hears Kieren spit into his hand, hears the sloppy wet noise that it makes when he puts his hand back on his cock, and then feels Kieren’s other hand pressing into Simon’s scar where it ends in the small of his back. 

“I love you,” Kieren suddenly voices. He only says it, words blooming from his mouth into the expanse of the dark room like words on the wind — but it always feels like he shouts it, sends electricity into Simon’s body, makes him _alive_ for each syllable.

Simon closes his eyes with a smile. He doesn’t need to see Kieren’s face for this. They’ve been together long enough. “I love you too,” he says, and Kieren makes this breathless, happy noise. 

In the next moments Simon feels the head of Kieren’s cock pressed up against his hole, the shift and groan of the mattress under them, and then Simon moans for the way Kieren can make him feel so full, the slow, aching push inside — he loves this, the moment where Kieren is so deep, where he just pauses, pressed up against and inside Simon’s body. There’s a bizarre, intense serenity to it; and then Kieren starts to move. 

In this position it’s exactly what Simon wanted, slow and deep. Kieren’s arms tuck around him, one hand on top of Simon’s; their fingers thread together like that, and Kieren kisses Simon’s shoulder, moans as he rolls his hips, setting an uneven but steady pace. 

“Simon,” Kieren whispers, and then drives his hips up hard against Simon’s ass, cock hitting over his prostate with each stroke — his pace growing to be more punishing, a steady in-out, drawing shudders and moans from Simon every time. “I wish you could get hard,” Kieren says, a weird, turned-on admission, his voice strained against Simon’s ears. “I just want to be able to see what it’s like when you, _uhn_ , come.”

Simon’s not bothered, not hurt, pushes his ass back to meet against Kieren’s thrusts. “You _do_ see me come,” he says, just to be pedantic, but he knows what Kieren means, shakes his head, groans, says, “I want that too - wish I could come all over you when you’re fucking me - _oh_!”  

Dirty talk isn’t really their forte, so when it happens, something breaks in both of them, Simon’s mouth dropping open wordlessly and his eyes squeezing shut as Kieren exhales and fucks into him with renewed vigour. Kieren’s repeating his name, a litany in time with the heart beating against Simon’s back, but Simon’s so past it that he’s completely silent other than his laboured breathing, pressing his face against the pillow desperately. 

Kieren can tell that Simon’s close, way his entire body tenses up a sheer dead giveaway for it all — Kieren’s hand lets go of Simon’s, pressing against his belly instead, fingers holding against the skin, and he kisses behind Simon’s ear and Simon loses it, crying out loudly as his orgasm wrecks his body, leaving him shaking and pressing back against Kieren hopelessly, the pursuit of more, more more. 

Coming without being able to get hard - it _feels_ so intense, all based off Kieren sparking up the living nerves that Simon has - and prostate stimulation, sheerly coming from getting fucked. Kieren always manages to ruin Simon this way, and by the time he’s stopped shuddering, he feels weak and sensitive, satisfied and wanting all at once.

A long, happy hiss of his name from Kieren, and Simon laughs weakly, his voice raw, then sighs, lets out a long _oh_ and nestles his ass back on Kieren’s hard cock, murmurs, “I want you to come inside me, _please_ ” and it feels like Simon’s wish is what topples Kieren over the edge, his hips driving up, his fingers grasping everywhere and he moans, a broken, gasping sound muffled against Simon’s neck as he comes. 

It always feels so good, Kieren wrapped around him like this, Simon knowing that he gives as much to Kieren as Kieren gives him. Their breathing is all he hears for a while, and then Kieren gently pulls out, the pair of them making little noises at the slow, sensitive action. 

Simon wants to roll onto his back so he can see Kieren, but the hand at the base of his spine stops him. Kieren’s fingers wander down, slipping between his cheeks - Simon goes still, waiting on what Kieren does, inhales sharply when two fingers rub over his wet hole, and then push gently inside. 

“Kieren,” Simon starts, his voice shaking. He’s so, _so_ sensitive there now, but he can’t bring himself to tell Kieren to stop; he has never been able to deny him, and Kieren knows that when he pushes both fingers deep into Simon. “ _Kieren_ ,” he repeats, and something in his voice must’ve come out sharper, because Kieren pulls his fingers out almost immediately.

Simon groans and shifts, rolling onto his back in time to watch Kieren wiping his fingers on a tissue from the bedside box. Simon feels a little hot at the realisation that Kieren’s wiping his own come off his fingers, and Kieren seems sheepish, putting the scrunched up tissue on the cabinet and then coming in close to kiss Simon. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Simon shakes his head, says, “it’s okay” at the same time that Kieren adds, “I want to go again”, a little bit embarrassed with his own needs. 

Simon exhales, weirdly thrilled, kisses Kieren sweetly. “We can,” he promises, because he’d let Kieren fuck him all day and night if Kieren had to, even if Kieren just _wanted to._ Right now, though, he’s not ready for that, and he doesn’t think Kieren could get hard again just now no matter how enthusiastic he is. 

Kieren is such a sight to behold anyway, his cock softening against his thigh, his cheeks red from exertion, his hair an ungodly mess. Simon rubs his hand down against Kieren’s stomach, hums and then relaxes back against the pillows. “We can,” he repeats, “when it’s daylight." 

Kieren’s nose scrunches up like he’s considering some kind of honest argument, and then he reaches for the sheets where they’re hanging off the edge of the bed, pulling them back up over them, over their hips.

He kisses the corner of Simon’s mouth. “I’m holding you to that."


End file.
